let's go

by
the structure of reality,
a mystery of each day
‧
(the right way doesn't exist,
for orange isn't a color
just the perfume of her skin
spread out by his fingers)
‧
(for his mouth is occupied
to complain about
the silhouette of her lips)
‧
playful visitors kissing
a some French 75 instead
salut… santΓ©… let's go…

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